


I Never Thought He Wouldn't

by MycroftexMachina



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 05:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11224302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftexMachina/pseuds/MycroftexMachina
Summary: Mitch loves people. And usually people love him back. Usually.





	I Never Thought He Wouldn't

**I.**

Mitch Marner will be the first to admit that he is _a lot_. Stromer once made a bullet-point list of the reasons why Mitch is a lot, and, in order to build a stronger case, he provided visual evidence, the dick that he is. He spent a week going through Mitch’s Instagram history, the text messages Mitch had sent him, and other assorted shit, and made a fucking PowerPoint presentation titled “Reasons Why Marns Should Chill the Fuck Out.”

 

Stromer also involved Davo in the project, and Davo, like the classy guy he is, told him to leave him out of it. Still, he had laughed his ass off when Dylan had gathered their friends in his basement and showed the presentation to all and sundry. Everyone had found the whole thing hilarious—Mitch too, to be honest, because he is self-aware, thank you very much—and they had a nice evening at Mitch’s expenses. Dylan had hugged Mitch, kissed him on the head and said, “Still love you, bro.” Typical Stromer shit.

 

The point is, Mitch knows he is a lot, but it’s not like he can help it. There is all this energy he has, and hockey seems to burn only like 60% of it on good days. So he needs to let it out in other ways. Sex is great, and he never had any complaints from his girlfriends, but he can only have so much sex, even if he is still technically a teenager. So there is still a lot of energy to burn, and if it makes him affectionate and cuddly—or whatever the fuck is the latest thing the media have come up with—so be it.

 

It’s not like Mitch has ever had any problems with his teammates about his hyperactive personality. Sure, Stromer took some years warming up to Mitch, but once they became friends, there was no going back—and Mitch thinks the animosity had more to do with Stromer feeling inadequate about Mitch’s awesome hockey than with Mitch himself.

 

Davo too, for all of his seriousness on the ice, is very appreciative of Mitch’s ability to lighten up a situation. Not that Mitch and Davo play together or whatever, but they are friends. And Davo needs all the lightening up he can get, since he has been selected as the savior of hockey in this galaxy and the next.

 

So the last thing Mitch expects, when he gets to the Leafs training camp, is to have problems with his potential teammates. And he is right. Everyone who is already on the roster is very friendly—Mo makes sure all the rookies feel welcome, Gards assists even if it is clear he is taking his cue from Mo and Matt Martin, who was brought in specifically to protect the rookies’ virtue, is supercool.

 

The other rookies also seem to be fine dudes. Sure, they are all fighting for a spot on the roster—well, except for Auston Matthews who there is no chance in hell is going to be sent to the Marlies—so there is a lot of good-natured ribbing and healthy competition. However, nobody seems too fazed by the fact that Mitch has more energy that he knows what to do with it and an appetite for life that knows no boundaries. Nylander sometimes looks at him as if he is trying to read a book in Latin, and Connor Brown appears to be perpetually on the point of burst out laughing at Mitch, but it’s nothing Mitch hasn't seen before. He has been like this since he was born, according to his parents.

 

The only big puzzle is Auston Matthews himself—or Matts, as they all call him, because that is not confusing enough on a team that has a Matt Martin and a Mitch Marner. Somebody should probably tell Lamoriello to start thinking about picking players based on their names, to create less confusion in the locker-room.

 

Matts is a puzzle and so are his interactions with Mitch. The guy is super serious and a total goofball at the same time. Mitch can see that playing in Zurich gave him a poise the other rookies don't yet have. He takes his hockey very seriously, although Mitch, who is friends with Connor McDavid, doesn't find it particularly surprising or disturbing. It’s got to be exhausting, however, to be generational talents.

 

A few days into camp, Matts loosens up a bit—they all do—and flashes on his sense of humor come out, especially when he is hanging out with Connor Carrick or JVR—it must be the American connection.

 

Mitch can tell, however, that Matts doesn't quite know what to do with him. It’s not like he is unpleasant or rude, on the contrary. He is very polite and willing to do drill with Mitch. But he does seem uneasy, almost as if he thinks Mitch is a bomb that could explode in his face if he shakes it too much. It’s not an idea that makes Mitch feel warm and fuzzy, and Mitch is used to people making him feel warm and fuzzy. He likes people, and people like him.

 

Mitch decides to deal with the problem—if there is a problem—once camp is over. He really wants to make the team this year, but the Memorial Cup only bought him so much good will with the organization. Unfortunately, once he makes the team, with a constellation of rookies the like of which hasn't been seen since eternity, he gets swept into the pre-season and the regular season. By then, Mitch is living his _fucking childhood dream_ , and he doesn't have the time to figure out why Auston Matthews sometimes looks at him like he is an unstable chemical compound—Stromer came up with this shit, and he failed Chemistry.

 

To be fair, they are getting along just fine. They drive in together, because Matts doesn't know Toronto and he doesn't like to drive. They also hang out together and, as the season moves along, they create their own routines that don't involve any other team members. They go out together—with the team or with the other rookies— and PR is delighted by all the nice footage they willingly provide for the consumption of the Toronto’s masses.

 

And yet, on most of these occasions, they end up doing different things, because Matts hooks up a lot, and Mitch has a girlfriend and he is not an asshole.

 

According to Stromer, who is back in the O and has way too much time in his hands, the Toronto press is indeed making a big deal out of the Matthews-and-Marner rookie bromance.

 

“You could be the next Kaner-and-Tazer, dude,” Dylan says one night on FaceTime. Mitch snorts, because he would rather not, thanks.

 

“What? Matthews still giving you the cold shoulder?” Dylan asks, frowning. He is a good friend and Mitch is lucky to have him.

 

“He never gives me the cold shoulder, Stromer. I thought I explained it.”

 

“Whatever, man. Call it what you want,” Stromer says. “Is he still being weird?”

 

“I don't even know. Sometimes I think he saw your PowerPoint and got scared or something,” Mitch complains.

 

Stromer laughs, “I have the only copy and I pinky-swore I would never share it with anyone. And Matthews is not in the in-crowd yet,” he adds, referring to their large group of friends from the GTA.

 

Mitch smiles, because Stromer is awesome when he is not a dick—although he is a dick 95% of the time. Still, the whole thing kind of weighs on Mitch’s mind, because he really doesn't know if he and Matts are going to have a problem. It doesn't look that way, but Mitch is not 100% sure, and he doesn't like that he’s not 100% sure.

 

Mitch doesn't read his own press—one of the many advices they all got during orientation—but sometimes he gets a link from a friend or a teammate, so he knows that Dylan is right, that Toronto loves his rookies—all of them, but especially him and Matts. It doesn't help that the two of them feed into the frenzy by coordinating outfits—it happens once, almost by accident, but it’s enough—by singing on the bench while the rest of the team is involved in a huge fistfight with their opponents—again, once is enough—and are very complimentary of each other’s game and character.

 

Still, for all that these are well documented facts, and that Matts is a cool dude and an excellent teammate, Mitch cannot shake the growing feeling he has had since they met back at camp: that Auston Matthews really doesn't like him.

 

**II.**

Stromer thinks Mitch is crazy when Mitch first tells him. He even enlists Davo, who has actually better things to do, like running a fucking NHL team, but who has always time for his friends.

 

“Dyls told me the latest Mitch-inspired craziness,” Davo says on a night after the Leafs had managed what they do so well—losing after having a two-goal advantage.

 

Mitch groans, “I am tired, Davo. I shot-blocked more than I should have and I have three new bruises.”

 

“Nobody is asking you to play defense, Marns. And stop deflecting,” Davo responds.

 

“Deflecting? Are you practicing for your SAT?”

 

“Fuck off. The media training is intense, dude. I have to use the words they teach me in everyday context so I can actually learn them properly. They are making me keep a diary about it.”

 

Mitch laughs, and is thankful, not for the first time, that he is not Connor McDavid. He loves hockey, and he thinks he is pretty good at it, but he just wants to play the game and win. He is not interested in being the face of the NHL once Crosby and Ovechkin retire or whatever.

 

“I am not deflecting, I am just exhausted,” Mitch protests.

 

“That might be the reason why you think Matts doesn't like you,” Davo suggests. “You are not thinking straight.”

 

Mitch doesn't want to have this conversation. Hell, he didn't want to have it with Stromer, but Dyls knows him too well.

 

“Whatever, Davo.”

 

“Not whatever, Marns,” Davo objects. “Matts is a laid-back guy. I mean, you should have seen him during the World Cup. He had to be on a line with me and Eichs, and you know how the media get when the two of us are in the same time-zone, never mind the same team.”

 

“You guys are old news, Davo, don’t front it,” Mitch says, because the McDavid-and-Eichel drama is as passé as the Aniston-and-Pitt divorce.

 

“Tell that to the reporters,” Davo grumbles.

 

“Sure, I will hold a press conference tomorrow.”

 

“Anyway, Matts is solid. He is a bit quiet at times and super serious on the ice, but he is a good guy.”

 

“Davo,” Mitch says patiently, because he loves Connor, but he doesn't appreciate his friends doubting his situational awareness, “I never said once Matts is not a good guy. I actually like him a lot. I am just saying I don't think he likes me all that much.”

 

Davo doesn't respond, possibly because he heard Mitch’s tone and can read between the lines.

 

“It’s not a big deal,” Mitch continues. “As long as we can play together and hang out with the team without drama it’ll be fine.”

 

Davo hums but he lets it go, and catches Mitch up with Edmonton gossip and the pranks he and Nursey played on Nugent-Hopkins. Everyone who is fooled by Connor’s baby face and polite answers is a loser in Mitch’s book. The guy is best friend with Dylan Strome—he has an evil streak nobody is going to see coming.

 

The season continues with its ups and downs—in typical Leafs fashion. The rookies are killing it, though, and it’s not only Matts and Mitch. It’s Willy and Zach and Connor. The veterans aren’t too shabby either, so it’s not like Babs can complain—though Babs complains as a matter of course.

 

Mitch goes out with the team, with his girlfriend, and he double dates with Marty because why the fuck not. Matts continues to hook up and hangs out with everyone, and he is pleasant to Mitch. It doesn't seem to help, and Mitch can’t shake the feeling that if it weren’t for the fact that they are on the same team and they are both rookies, Matts would drop him faster than one can say Stanley Cup. It’s not fun at all, especially since everyone else on the team genuinely likes Mitch, even the most stoic among the veterans. Hell, even Babs has a soft spot for him, which is easy to see if one knows what they are looking for.

 

Mitch thinks about talking to Marty, but he doesn't want to mess with the team dynamics—that’s also why he doesn't say anything to Steph, who is close to Matty’s girlfriend.

 

Stromer continues to tell him to stop with the drama, and Mitch laughs because Dylan could run his own drama school. Davo has started sending him links to advice columns, which is supposed to help Mitch, but ends up freaking him out, because people are just weird. All is well in Leafs Land until the Sabres roll into town in mid February with an axe to grind.

 

The game is ugly from the get-go, both teams hungry for a playoff spot. Only the Leafs have an honest-to-God chance to actually get in, but the Sabres aren’t willing to let it go just yet—a team with Eichs on its roster is not going to give up without a fight.

 

Zaits gets slammed into the board so hard that Mitch’s teeth shake in sympathy and it only gets worse from there. It is therefore not surprising that, in the final seconds of the game, all hell breaks loose. Sure, nobody is expecting the rookies to fight—hell, nobody expects older players to fight the rookies, regardless of the team; that’s why the hockey gods created enforcers. Nevertheless, Ristolainen doesn't seem to have gotten the memo and gets into a fight with Matts. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s happening _right in front of him_ , Mitch wouldn't believe it.

 

Mitch’s reaction is instantaneous: he skates behind the net and jumps Ristolainen before he can do any damage to Matts’ head—for fuck’s sake, don’t they explain these people about concussions in Buffalo? Hugging the guy to the ground is not pretty, and Mitch knows he is never going to hear the end of it, but it turns out to be effective. To be honest Mitch is pleased with the results. It’s not like he has the moves, like Marty or Leo. He just wanted the fucker away from Matts’ head. The fucker is now away from Matts’ head. Matts’ expression when Mitch looks up, however, is not grateful, but full of ill-concealed loathing. And he is looking at Mitch, who just saved his ass, and not at Ristolainen, who almost broke it.

 

Mitch recoils before shaking it off and heading towards the bench. The referees call the game and the Leafs head to the locker-room re-invigorated by the fight, despite the 3-1 loss.

 

Babs reams them a new one, but Mitch is completely checked out, because he knows what he saw and he doesn't care that Davo thinks Matts is cool, the guy clearly has a problem with Mitch. Still, they both have a job to do, and they do it like the professionals they are. The reporters aren’t waiting for anyone.

 

Mitch says all the right things at the presser, and, as far as he can tell, Matts does too. He doesn't believe his “I would’ve much rather had myself in there instead of him” bullshit, however, not for one second, not after seeing Matts’ face. And it doesn't escape Mitch that Matts calls him an “unbelievable teammate,” as if he cannot believe Mitch actually exists, because the whole thing is too crazy. Screw Davo and Stromer. Auston Matthews is a passive-aggressive asshole.

 

A passive-aggressive asshole Mitch still needs to drive home, unfortunately, so he goes to take a shower and change back into his game-day suit. He lets the guys chirp him about his questionable fighting techniques because it’s a good bonding exercise in the aftermath of Babs’ anger and his promise of morning retribution. Then, realizing that Matts has left the room, Mitch goes to look for him in the tunnels. The adrenaline that kept him upright during the presser is quickly stopping to do its job, and Mitch is ready to crash.

 

Matts is nowhere to be found, but one of the janitors, who is used to see them coming and going together, directs him to where Matts seems to have disappeared. It’s on the way out, so Mitch figures Matts went to the car and follows.

 

There are still a lot of people around, the hidden personnel that keeps the ACC functioning before and after a game. It’s fascinating to observe, and something people do not really know it exists, these inner working of a well-oiled machine.

 

Mitch walks through the corridors, alternatively looking at this army of workers and thinking about how to explain things to Stromer and Davo, when he overhears Matts’ voice somewhere ahead of him.

 

“ … fucking ridiculous …” he seems to say. He is clearly talking on the phone, since he goes quiet for a few beats. Mitch doesn't really want to disturb him, especially after a game like this, so he passes the alcove where Matts hid to have his conversation in peace and makes for the door that’ll take him to the players’ parking lot.

 

“I don't give a flying fuck, Zach,” Matts erupts, and Mitch is so surprised by the vehemence of his statement that he stops in his track.

 

“The last thing I need is that fucking clown coming to my rescue. I am perfectly capable of taking care of this shit myself. It’s like he can’t help himself with being everyone’s buddy.”

 

Mitch goes still, shocked not only by the words but also by the tone Matts is using. The venom that drips in every syllable is so poisonous Mitch expects to burn from it.

 

“That’s because you don't have to be around him day in and day out. He is unbearable … and no, don't tell me again that Eichs likes him. Eichs has horrible taste, and whatever mind-melding experience you guys had at the draft is not my problem.”

 

Mitch considers making his presence known, just to thank Zach Werenski—it must be him, Mitch knows he is Matts’ friend—for trying to talk some sense in Auston. Shit, Mitch likes Zach. But then, Mitch likes everybody, which kind of seems to be the problem.

 

“Fine, so you like him too. I _don’t_ ,” Matts continues undeterred. From his tone, one would think he believes that having been drafted first overall makes his opinion more important than everybody else’s.

 

Werenski must say something unhelpful, because Mitch sees Matts runs his hand to his hair before tensing up again. “I don’t care. This is really the last straw. He should have minded his own fucking business. It’s already enough that the media think we are best buddies, like that would ever happen. Now they are going to make stupid comments about him coming to my rescue. As if I need him to take care of this shit.”

 

Again Werenski interrupts Matts for a few minutes, and it leaves him unhappy, giving that his tone is even more scathing when he speaks next. “I disagree. He is not that good, and the Leafs don't need him. They could call up Kappy any day and send him back and we would be much better off. And don’t start again on the Memorial Cup, that’s a junior tourney …” Another interruption. “Yes, I know I was very proud of my gold … Let me finish …” Another one. “Yes, I can have it both ways. You are my friend, you are supposed to be on my side.”

 

The slamming of a door distracts Mitch from the conversation and he sees a few people coming in their direction. He quickly continues towards the parking lot, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping on his teammate and presumed friend. Once he gets to the lot, he finds a couple of players still there. Leo is about to get into his car, and Bozak and Matty are making plans for a game of poker, because they are old as fuck.

 

“Can you do me a favor and drive Matts home?” Mitch asks, not caring if he is interrupting.

 

Matty looks at him, puzzled by the request. Whatever he reads on Mitch’s face must be enough, however, because he agrees immediately.

 

“Everything okay?” Bozie asks, because he has an A for something, it seems.

 

“Yes, I just want to go home and I don't know where he is,” Mitch explains quickly and he leaves them before they start asking other questions.

 

Mitch doesn't remember the trip home, because he is too busy trying to parse the hatred Matts seems to feel for him. Once he gets home, he grabs a G2 and a sandwich his mom left him before going to sleep and hides in his room. He has twenty-one new messages. A couple are from Auston, who tells him he hopes he is okay, the _fucking hypocrite._ Most are from Stromer, who wants to make sure Mitch is okay after the fight, and from Davo, who behaves like he is Mitch’s captain even if they never played together. One is from Steph and the other from Marty. Both of them want to talk to him immediately and Mitch can’t be bothered with either. He turns the phone off and goes to sleep. This day cannot end soon enough.

 

**III.**

Mitch doesn't have a lot of time to think about what he overheard Matts say. He gets injured a few days afterwards, during a game against the Blue Jackets, because Mitch’s life is a fucking joke. It's not an awful injury, as far as these things go. Nothing is broken and he shouldn't be sidelined for more than a couple of weeks. However, playing hockey has always helped him working through his shit, and now that he can’t, he doesn't have an outlet for all the energy that still runs through him despite the injury.

 

Everyone is very supportive, but it doesn't help much. Mitch is so shocked because of what Matts said that he starts doubting people on the team actually like him. He is suddenly distrustful of everyone’s motifs, and it’s so much not like him he gets even madder.

 

Marty comes by with soup, even if Mitch’s mom is around every day, guarding him like a hawk. The Connors show up with board games Mitch can play, since gaming is out of the question. Hyman stops by to complain about his on-and-off girlfriend and Mitch listens patiently, because he is an awesome friend—fuck Matts to hell and back.

 

Matts stops by with Willy and Kappy, and it takes the three of them about five minutes to realize Mitch doesn't want them to stay—he wonders if they have been talking about Kappy replacing Mitch just yet.

 

Mitch has objectively nothing against Willy and Kappy, who are cool and stylish and pretty and European. But they are Matts' friends before they are Mitch’s, and Mitch is not in a good place right now. He doesn't know if Matts kept his intense dislike for Mitch out of the team and bitched about Mitch only to his USNTDP buddies. If he didn't, and Willy and Kappy also think Mitch is a fucking clown, then Mitch doesn't want them in his house. Since he doesn't know anything anymore, he doesn't want them around him.

 

Willy is notably troubled by the whole thing. For all his swagger and charm, he is a good guy, but Mitch doesn't care. Willy says nothing, though, and he is the one to suggest they all let Mitch rest when it becomes clear Mitch has no intention of playing host.

 

Matts must realize that something is up, because he keeps sending Mitch these long, pondering looks, his eyes even more serious than usual. Mitch returns these looks with a cold glare, until Matts is forced to look somewhere else, the fucking bastard. Mitch doesn't want him in his house. Hell, he doesn't want him in his car, but he doesn't know how to make that happen without coming clean.

 

After Matts, Willy and Kappy leave, Mitch sits down on the couch for a while, and then opens the chat he shares with Davo and Stromer—which Stromer named _1-3-4_ because he is a jerk—and spends the next thirty minutes explaining what happened that night at the arena.

 

 _I dont wanna talk about it, so dont start calling_ , he writes.

 

 _Do you want me to come over and break his neck?_ Dylan replies. He has been on line the whole time, interjecting progressively more outraged comments as Mitch described what had happened. Davo is not around, but Mitch has no doubts he will hear from him soon enough.

 

 _And deprive hockey of such a specimen?_ Mitch snorts, although he appreciates Dylan’s support.

 

 _Fuck hockey_ , is Stromer’s reply, _there’re plenty of players where he came from. Nobodys gonna miss him._

Mitch loves Stromer.

 

That night Davo calls, because he cannot follow basic instructions to save his life. Mitch doesn't answer and after a while he gets a long message on a private chat, which ends in what Mitch thinks is a lame comment.

 

_I know you’re hurt, Mitchy, but you cannot let this fester. Team dynamics are too important. You gotta fix it._

_You are not my captain Davo,_ Mitch replies, because he is sick of Davo making excuses about Matts and the situation he created. _I have four alternates to go to if I feel the need to unload, and its Matts’ word against mine._

_I didn't say talk to the alternates, I said talk to Matts._

Mitch doesn't respond. Davo is not wrong, he knows that, but Mitch doesn't like confrontations. He is not used to them, because except for the long feud he had with Stromer, which was hockey-based anyway, he gets along with _everyone_. So the last thing he wants to do is have a heart-to-heart with Matts about whatever problems Matts has with him. Maybe after the playoffs, if they make it, once the season is over and things settle down. Maybe never.

 

Things continue in pretty much the same fashion once Mitch is back in the line-up, with one glaring exception: his relationship with Matts cools down considerably, and everyone is the locker-room notices it. Mitch continues to drive Matts around, because _he_ is not a jerk, but that’s it. He doesn't go to Matts’ house, and he certainly doesn't invite him over to his own. When they go out with the team, he keeps his distance, and when it’s only the rookies, Mitch makes his excuses and goes back home or to his hotel room.

 

He is still his usual self with everybody else, because his life is awesome even if Auston Matthews hates him. He gets over his unease with the rest of the team, who is delighted to have him back—even Leo claps him on the shoulder, gently. So he hugs Marty before games and Freddie and Mac after, he dances and sings in the locker-room, and he tries to pull some Beckham’s moves during their soccer warm-ups before games. And he doesn't talk to Matts unless he absolutely has to and unless it’s about hockey.

 

Mo would probably call him out on it if it weren’t for the fact that they are in the middle of clinching a playoff spot and all of his energies are focused on keeping the team together—Mitch really hopes Mo will be captain next year. The last thing he needs is for Lamoriello to pull a Chiarelli and make Auston captain of the Leafs in his second year on the team.

 

The end of the regular season is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. The Leafs seem unable to secure their position and the fans are clamoring despite their support. Everybody is running on fumes and at this point it doesn't matter if they are going to face the Capitals or the Senators, as long as they face _someone_. Calling up Kappy turns out to be the right choice, although it makes Mitch wonder whether Matts might have a point about Mitch’s role on the team.

 

Beating the Penguins on home ice is pretty sweet—they are the defending champions and Crosby is the best player in the entire universe—and the relief in the locker-room is so palpable, the pride they all feel so great, that when Mo yells “Mandatory team bonding night!” everyone agrees. They still have a game before the start of the playoffs, but they made it. They can let lose for one second.

 

They choose a bar where the food is passable but abundant and there is enough of a vodka selection to satisfy the Russians on the team. Mitch finds himself squeezed between Marty and Carrick, with Brownie in front of him and Willy and Kappy on his left side. He is going through his phone, checking Instagram and Twitter, DMing friends and family and laughing at Davo and Dylan’s kissy faces.

 

The guys are ecstatic, starving, and willing to get drunk. Mitch lets himself be swept in the general euphoria of his team, and tries to ignore the fact that he is still not talking to Matts. Luckily, he is in another booth, so that’s not a problem for tonight.

 

After a few beers—he is not a vodka kind of person, regardless Leo’s attempts at conversion—Mitch gets up for a bathroom break and then heads to the bar to get another pitcher of beer and one of water. Matts is there too, chatting with one of the never-ending parade of girls he is surrounded by. He sends Mitch a smile that Mitch ignores while he places his order and waits for the bartender to serve him. When he turns to get back to his booth, Matts abandons his companion and follows Mitch back to the table. Marty went to talk to Bozie, so the spot near Mitch is suddenly open and Matts drops in it with the ease a 6 foot 3 inches person should not have.

 

Mitch decides it’s time to start a conversation with Carrick, who is admittedly pretty shit-faced, when Matts puts a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Do you have a minute?”

 

“Not really,” Mitch says, even if it’s clearly not true.

 

“Come on, Marns,” Matts insists. “Willy and Kappy can entertain Connor until we’re back.”

 

“Are we going somewhere?” Mitch asks while the Scandinavian twins nod enthusiastically and involve Carrick in a complex game of charade in the middle of the fucking bar.

 

Matts nods and literally drags Mitch out of the booth and out of the bar’s main room. Mitch goes along, because Matts’ grip hurts and he doesn't want to cause a scene in a Toronto bar. Babs and Shanny are going to kill them all if they cause a scandal.

 

Once they are outside, Mitch turns towards Matts.

 

“What the fuck was that?”

 

“We need to talk, Marns, and this is a good time as any.”

 

 _So much for waiting until after the playoffs_ , Mitch thinks.

 

“About?” Mitch asks raising his eyebrows. Chris told him once it makes him look like a moron, but Chris knows jackshit about these things.

 

“Don't be an idiot, Marns. Everyone can see there is something wrong. Mo is not gonna touch it, but I don't have that problem.”

 

Mitch spends one millisecond worrying about the fact that Mo and Matts may have talked about him, but then thinks, _Fuck it_.

 

“That’s right, Matts. Everyone knows you call it like it is,” he says mockingly.

 

Mitch’s tone doesn't escape Matts—he is a hockey player, but he isn’t dumb. Mitch has met his parents. They are awesome.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, Matts,” Mitch continues, and the sarcasm drips from his voice, “if there is one thing we can count on is Auston Matthews being straight about everything, right? His game, his ambitions, his friends and his team.”

 

“What the fuck is up with you?” Matts says visibly upset now.

 

“Nothing is up with me, dude. I just don't really have anything to say to you anymore.”

 

“Anymore?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I knew you didn't like me, which is fine by the way. We are probably going to have to play together for the next decade or so, but we don't need to get along or something…”

 

“Wait a minute,” Matts interrupts, a frown on his forehead. “Where did you get the idea I don't like you?”

 

Mitch’s lips thin in anger, because he can tolerate a lot of crap, but lying really gets him furious.

 

“From you, of course,” he answers suavely.

 

Matts seems not to understand so Mitch decides to help him out.

 

“You know, from what you said to Werenski. What was it you called me? A fucking clown?”

 

Matts goes pale underneath his natural tan and Mitch has a moment of satisfaction in seeing the great Auston Matthews caught off guard.

 

“Who told you that?”

 

“Nobody did. I was there. You just didn't see me because you were too busy complaining about me to realize I was standing right behind you.”

 

Matts has the decency to look ashamed, which is frankly more than Mitch was expecting.

 

“Zach never said anything bad about you,” he adds.

 

“That’s wonderful,” Mitch replies, and really, who would’ve thought he could do sarcasm so well? Not Mitch, that’s for sure.

 

“I mean it, Marns,” Matts insists.

 

“Whatever. He’s your friend, it’s not like I care. Just stay away from me and we’ll be fine.”

 

Matts winces before nodding in acceptance.

 

“I want to explain …” he adds, like that’s going to make it better somehow.

 

“Not interested,” Mitch stops him. “I spent months trying to figure out what was wrong with you and giving you the benefit of the doubt because everyone says you are such an upstanding dude. Turns out, I was right and they were wrong, and you are a hypocritical asshole. I just want to play hockey and live my life. I don't need to be friend with Auston Fucking Matthews.”

 

And Matts has really nothing to say to that. So he nods again and returns to the bar. Mitch has had enough, however. He sends a quick text to Matty, gets an Uber and goes home.

 

**IV.**

The next few months fly. The playoffs are awesome and so is Paris. Losing to Sweden sucks, and so does breaking up with Steph after the trip to Aruba. Mitch had seen it coming, but had preferred to deal with it at the last possible minute, because there is enough drama in his life. Still, by the time the 2017 Expansion Draft comes around, Mitch is enjoying his summer, spending time with his family and his friends and helping Stromer with his street hockey tournaments.

 

Things with Matts have stalled. Mitch has gotten a couple of messages, both requests to talk. The first one had arrived soon after the Leafs had been kicked out of the playoffs, and Mitch had said “Thanks, but no thanks.”

 

The second one had come after an exchange they’d had because Mitch cannot shut up. The morning after the World Cup final, Mitch had found a message from Matts.

 

_Sorry about the game. You played great._

Mitch had thought about it for two minutes before responding.

 

_Look at the bright side: more chances of me getting sent back to the Marlies and freeing spots for your buddies._

Matts had answered a few hours later, an apologetic text that had done little to appease Mitch.

 

_I am sorry about that. It was an shitty thing to say and it’s not true. Can we talk?_

Mitch hadn’t replied and Matts had thankfully not insisted.

 

Since then, things have mostly been quiet, for which Mitch is grateful. It still hurts, what Matts said about him to Zach Werenski, because Mitch genuinely liked Matts. But he meant what he said: they can play together without being friends and no one needs to make a big deal out of it.

 

Things get weird again after the draft and the awards, however. Davo returns from Vegas with a long face and a need to talk to Mitch that Mitch finds suspicious.

 

“We are gonna see each other in a week,” Mitch says.

 

“I need to see you now,” Davo insists, like whining is going to work on Mitch. He is not Stromer, what the fuck.

 

“Did something happen?” he asks.

 

“Not exactly,” Davo says, but Mitch is not convinced. Still, it’s hard to say no to Connor McDavid. So, after much cajoling, Mitch agrees to meet at Stromer’s house for a sleepover, since they are all apparently six years old and codependent.

 

When Mitch arrives, Davo and Stromer are already there, curled up on the couch in Dylan’s basement and watching _Game of Thrones_. Mitch drops the beers he brought along in the basement’s mini-fridge and sprawls on the couch near Stromer, who is almost better at cuddling than Matty.

 

“What’s up?” Mitch says, and they make small talk while a few people on the screen participate in an orgy. It’s the strangest shows, _Game of Thrones_ , and that’s all Mitch has to say about it.

 

“So, what was so urgent it couldn't wait until next weekend?” Mitch asks after Dylan turns the TV volume down and grabs them something to drink.

 

“Apparently Davo had a long talk with Matthews at the awards,” Dylan smirks.

 

Mitch rolls his eyes. Of course Connor McDavid couldn't mind his own fucking business even when he was supposed to be feted by the entire hockey world.

 

“They didn't schedule enough interviews?” Mitch asks. “Too much free time between chatting with Bettman and cozying up with Crosby?”

 

Davo’s grimace must have everything to do with Bettman, because he is totally besotted with Crosby—Stromer is ridiculously jealous about it, which is kind of funny.

 

“Let’s not talk about Bettman. The less I think about him, the better,” Davo says.

 

“I would rather talk about him than about Matts,” Mitch confesses.

 

“I get it, Marns,” Davo says, and he hugs Mitch. That never bodes well. Davo is stingy with his hugs, unless he is on the ice or it’s Stromer. Marns gets more than most, but still not as many as he’d like.

 

“But…” Mitch prods.

 

“But I think the guy’s really sorry.”

 

“Sorry he got caught,” Dylan says. He is objectively Mitch’s favorite, at least until the next time he pisses Mitch off.

 

“I don't think so,” Davo says musingly. “I think he didn't realize how much of a jerk he was being until you confronted him with it. Zach has been up his ass to make amends since he found out you’d heard their convo.”

 

“Werenski is solid, dude,” Stromer says, and Mitch nods. Zach is a cool guy, unlike Matts.

 

“He told me he tried to talk to you and you shut him down,” Davo continues.

 

Mitch shrugs—he doesn't owe anyone an explanation about his refusal to clear things up with Matts. The guy said he wanted to see Mitch with the Marlies, even if he knows how hard Mitch had to work to make the Leafs roster. He called Mitch a clown. More than the words, it was the tone that cut through Mitch’s skin, and that’s something he can’t explain to Dylan and Connor.

 

“Mitch,” Davo insists.

 

“So he is sorry, so what? It’s not like he is going to start liking me all of a sudden.”

 

“Probably not,” Davo concedes, and that hurts too, because Mitch really, really liked Matts, probably more than he was willing to admit. Maybe he hadn’t wanted them to be the next Tazer-and-Kaner, but he had hoped they could be Toronto’s Matthews-and-Marner.

 

“Then what’s the point? He feels better if I accept his apology and he can move on?”

 

“Maybe if you accept his apology, _you_ can move on,” Davo observes insightfully.

 

“ _Dude_ ,” Dylan says, because sometimes Connor is too much for Dylan too.

 

“I am serious. This thing with Matts fucked you up way too much. I get that breaking up with Steph didn't help.”

 

“That’s on the vetoed topics of conversation, like the 2014 Kool-Aid disaster and what happened between you and Eichs at the draft.”

 

“Nothing happened between me and Eichs at the draft,” Davo sighs long-sufferingly, because Mitch and Dylan never believe him about that. Dylan smirks and winks at Mitch, who winks back.

 

“Then why did you veto the topic?” Mitch asks.

 

“Because the two of you wouldn't stop bringing it up,” Davo says.

 

“Anyway, we were talking about you, Mitchy, so quit being an ass.”

 

Mitch rolls his eyes, but settles enough onto Stromer to signal to Davo to continue his spiel on Matts and his redeeming qualities or whatever the fuck he is going to talk about.

 

“So Matts was a jerk and he knows it. He has no objective reason as to why he doesn't like you, except for saying that you are more exhausting than suicides.”

 

“True,” Dylan interjects and Mitch slaps him on the head. Dylan shuts up.

 

“But he wants to apologize in person and he wants to explain things. You should listen to what he has to say.”

 

Mitch is quiet for a while and Davo lets him have his thinking time. Stromer gets up to go to the bathroom and to grab some snacks. When he returns, Mitch is willing to concede defeat.

 

“Okay. I’ll text him and we can talk at camp.” It’s about two months away, plenty of time to get used to the idea.

 

“Matts is in Toronto in two weeks time for some photo-shoot or something. You should do it then,” Davo informs him.

 

“What the fuck, McDavid,” Mitch says, “Are you his fucking social secretary?”

 

Dylan bursts out laughing while Davo blushes. Davo’s heart is in the right place, but he really needs to learn about boundaries.

 

“He mentioned it in case you wanted to talk to him. I wanted to invite him to Dylan’s next tourney, but I thought it’d be too much.”

 

“You are learning, Young Padawan,” Mitch says, thanking the hockey gods for small miracles.

 

“Okay, fine, I will talk to him when he’s in town and get this over with.”

 

“Excellent,” Davo says, looking way too pleased for someone who doesn't have a horse in the race.

 

Mitch looks at Dylan, who, as the resident Davo expert, should know about these things. Dylan, however, shrugs, indicating he has no clue what is wrong with him. Mitch rolls his eyes, _again_ , and goes to grab another beer. If he has to talk to Matts in the immediate future, and be reminded of what went wrong between them, he wants to get drunk a few times beforehand, to prepare himself.

 

**V.**

They meet at a Tim Hortons, because they are in Toronto, but within two minutes they realize they cannot stay there. It might be summer, but Matts is still Auston Matthews and Mitch is still Mitch Marner. They get their ice-coffees to go and decide to take a walk on the waterfront. There are enough tourists around that they can be anonymous, aided also by sunglasses and hats.

 

Mitch doesn't know what to expect, really, but it was Matts who wanted to talk, so he lets him do his thing. After a while, Matts stop by an empty bench and sits down. Mitch follows suit and curls up, his chin on his knees, observing seagulls chasing after each other.

 

“I really fucked up, didn't I?” Matts says out of the blue.

 

Mitch snorts. “That’s one way to look at it.” Because, really, what else is there to say?

 

“I am really sorry about what I said that night,” Matts continues and Davo was right, the guy does sound remorseful. Still, what is Mitch gonna do with that? Not much, that’s what. So he nods imperceptibly and takes a sip of coffee.

 

“You don't believe me,” Matts comments.

 

“No, I do. I just don't really know what to say. I mean, you made your feelings pretty clear, and they were awful feelings.”

 

Matts sighs, takes off his hat and passes both hands in his long hair. It’s the off-season, so Lamoriello’s rules don't apply. He must have decided to let it grow out a bit.

 

“I get it,” he says. “I was stupid about that. Zach told me from the beginning that I was exaggerating—he knows you and thinks you are pretty cool. But I was so wrapped up into my own way of doing things that I lost track of the fact I could be wrong.”

 

Mitch snorts, because Davo and Stromer had been doing the same thing with Mitch, although he had been right.

 

“What?” Matts asks, and so Mitch tells him about his misgivings at the beginning of the season and how Davo had vouched for Auston.

 

“He kept saying you are cool, and solid, and chill. I kept insisting you didn't like me. Davo doesn't appreciate to be proven wrong.”

 

Mitch cannot see Matts’ eyes, but the sunglasses don't cover his whole face, so he can tell the guy is blushing.

 

“Yeah. He made that very clear in Vegas,” he murmurs.

 

“You still haven’t told me what’s so wrong about me that made you rant on and on for months with your American friends,” Mitch says.

 

“Friend,” Matts specifies. “The only one willing to listen was Zach. Eichs cut me out quickly and Larks didn't want to be involved. I never said anything to the team. I promise you, Mitch.”

 

Mitch raises his eyebrows, because Matts doesn't call him Mitch if he can help it. To be fair, he doesn't call anyone by their given name unless he is talking to their parents, but with Mitch, he always went the extra mile.

 

Smiling sheepishly, Matts explains, “If Willy and Kappy knew what was going on, they’d kneecap me.”

 

“Good,” Mitch says. It’s reassuring to know the guys have their priorities straight. “Still, you haven’t answered my question.”

 

Matts is silent for a while, enough that Mitch finishes his coffee and is contemplating getting another one.

 

“It was a lot, you know?”

 

“What?” Mitch asks.

 

“Everything. The draft, prospect camp, all of the stuff I had to do with the other draftees. And then to come to Toronto and been hailed like a hero when I’d done nothing. By the time training camp came around, I was so exhausted I was ready to sleep for a month. And then I met you.”

 

Mitch doesn't say anything. This is Matts' show, after all.

 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a lot?” Matts asks, and Mitch can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. Matts looks at him like he is insane, but Mitch giggles and waves his hand to signal everything is fine.

 

“You should ask Stromer to show you the PowerPoint.”

 

“The PowerPoint?”

 

“Yep. He made one a while back, inspired by the fact that, and I quote, ‘sometimes you are really too fucking much, Marns’. It’s pretty detailed. If you are lucky, he might have updated it with stuff from this year.”

 

Matts continues to look at Mitch like Mitch has lost all his marbles.

 

“I am not an idiot, Matts. I know how I am. I just don't understand how we go from there to ‘fucking clown who can’t play hockey’.”

 

Matts sighs again. “That’s where it all went wrong. You are a lot, but I was the only one who seemed to have a problem with that. And instead of looking at myself in the mirror, like Zach suggested, I took it out on you. What bothered me even more was the fact that you work hard and you are an excellent player, but you are also a jokester who doesn't pass up an opportunity to make mischief.”

 

“So are you, Matts,” Mitch interrupts, but Matts is on a roll.

 

“I know. And the whole thing wasn't rational. There you were, with your perfect life, playing for your childhood team, with your perfect friends and your perfect girlfriend, and your perfect family in fucking perfect Canada and you laughed at everything and everyone laughed with you. Meanwhile, I was in a foreign country, again, homesick and missing my mom and my sisters. My girlfriend was in Arizona—not that that was a problem for long—and everyone was watching everything I did. It was exhausting. _You_ were exhausting. I just took you and blamed you for all the shitty crap that was going on at the time. And when things settled down, and I was doing better, there was no real way to go back.”

 

It makes some kind of sense, Mitch thinks. It doesn't excuse Matts’ behavior, but it does explain it. So he nods and gestures Matts to continue.

 

“What you heard me saying, that was me lashing out because of the fight. I meant what I told the reporters. I’d rather it had been me out there. But it also pissed me off, because there you were, being nice, and I _hated_ you.”

 

The venom is no longer there, and Matts appears genuinely contrite, but Mitch winces, because there is a difference between thinking someone doesn't like you and thinking someone hates you. Mitch doesn't know anyone who actively hates him. Or he didn't, until a second ago.

 

Matts notices Mitch’s discomfort and touches his arm fleetingly. “I am sorry. I am making things worst. Zach yelled at me for two weeks after that, and finally got through my head. But, by then, you’d started distancing yourselves.”

 

Mitch nods and hums, but says nothing. He is hurting, exactly like he was when he overheard Matts venting with Zach, because it still fucking sucks.

 

“I know I was being unfair,” Matts continues. “I mean, it’s unrealistic to think everything in your life was perfect and that everything in mine wasn't. And I had a great season and a lot of fun along the way. I just started out resenting you for no reason and continued until it was too late.”

 

“As long as you realize that,” Mitch says. If Matts thinks Mitch’s life is all unicorns and puppies, he is a fucking idiot on top of being an asshole. Forget all the “You are too small to play in the NHL crap”, which Mitch has had to fight against over and over again this season. For all the excitement and elation that he gets to play for the Leafs, Mitch is too much of a Toronto boy not to feel the weight of the responsibility the organization entrusted him with.

 

“Yeah,” Matts says, turning towards the waterfront. “When I talked to Connor at the awards, he said something very smart.”

 

“Davo makes it a habit to do that, unfortunately,” Mitch jokes, and Matts cracks a smile.

 

“Tell me about it. He was intense during the World Cup. But he told me that instead of thinking you had it better than me, I should have realized that we were in the same boat and we could have carried the weight together.”

 

“Poetic,” Mitch says without any real heat. Davo has a point, after all, and it’s not different from what he had said Mitch several times during the season.

 

“He is right, though,” Matts responds, and Mitch turns towards him. He is still staring at the water, and his shoulders are still tense but when he looks at Mitch, after having removed his sunglasses, his eyes are limpid. Mitch cannot see in them anything more than sincere regret.

 

Mitch takes a deep breath, and asks, “What is your goal here, Matts?”

 

“That depends on you,” is the response.

 

“Not really,” Mitch counters. “I’ve always been an open book.”

 

Matts is silent for a bit, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks, Mitch is honestly surprised.

 

“You said we didn't have to be friends to play together, even if we spend our entire career together. I don't agree with that. I mean, probably we could manage it, and I know that’s what happens on other teams more often than not. But everyone I talked to—and I mean _everyone,_ Marns—likes you. Eichs came up to me once and asked me if the bags I have under my eyes are because I cannot keep up with you and that I better get in shape for that, since you are too much fun.”

 

Mitch laughs. Eichs is weird, and reporters take cheap shots at him because he is not like Davo or Crosby, but he is one of the funniest guys Mitch knows and a cool dude to boot.

 

Matts rolls his eyes good-naturedly when Mitch says, “Keeping up with me is a full-time job. Ask Stromer.”

 

Then Matts continues, “Whatever. I still want to try. I didn't give you a chance last year, and things snowballed from there. If you let me make it up to you, I want to see if we can get along.”

 

“I get along with everyone, Matts,” Mitch points out.

 

“I know, I know,” Matts responds. “It’s me who needs to get along with people better.”

 

“We really don't have to be friends just because Davo, Zach and Eichs think it would be a good idea, though.”

 

“That’s true. But I think it would be a good idea, too. I had fun with you when I wasn't too busy being a dick. I liked going to the Christmas Market and I enjoyed hanging out with you at some of the parties. I can do without getting destroyed at COD every other day, but that’s not on you. We can go out together, get trashed and pick girls up too, now that we are both single.”

 

Mitch raises his eyebrows, because the offer is kind of sweet although not really what Mitch was expecting.

 

“I am off girls for a while, I think. I need a break from that. But I am more than happy to kick your ass at COD. For the market, you’re gonna have to wait until December.”

 

The tension that coiled Matts’ body suddenly disappears, and the change is so visible that Mitch can do nothing but believe that Matts had a change of heart about him.

 

“You can still be my wingman,” he says with a smirk, and Mitch shoves him.

 

“You never seem to have problems on that front, so leave me out of it. You can go out with Willy if you are so desperate.”

 

“Nah, I am good.”

 

Mitch smiles at him and gets up.

 

“What are you doing?” Matts asks.

 

“Well, you want the whole Mitch Marner experience, and I need to see if you can keep up with me. So we are starting this friendship thing now.”

 

Matts nods gamely. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“You are in my city, Matts. We are going to take a look at the sights. And you are very, very good, I might ask Stromer to show you the PowerPoint.”

 

Matts laughs, “I will be on my best behavior, then. I could get some useful tips about you. I often think you should come with an instruction manual.”

 

“Fuck you,” Mitch says and, like that, they are off.

 

**VI.**

The rest of the summer passes quickly between training, parties and trips throughout Canada. Mitch continues to hang out with his family and his friends, slowly recovers from his break-up and makes fun of Stromer and Davo for their questionable dress choices.

 

He also spends a lot of time texting with Matts, who appears to have taken this friendship business seriously. Stromer ended up showing him the infamous PowerPoint—with Davo and Mitch present, because Mitch was worried Stromer would kill Matts and hide his body. Davo had been worried too, to be honest. Anyways, Matts had laughed and provided additional material from the Leafs group chat. Stromer hadn’t exactly forgiven him, _yet_ , but he had been appreciative of Matts’ generosity.

 

So Matts texts Mitch, and Mitch tries to teach Matts how to play COD and how to buy suitable jeans—a lost cause, according to Stromer. It’s pretty much what Mitch had imagined things could be with Matts if they had gotten a chance last year, so he can’t complain. The hurt is still there, and Mitch cannot quite figure out why he is still at times feeling like shit about the things Matts said, but Matts is working hard to repair their relationship and build a solid friendship.

 

By the time camp begins in September, they are on solid footing. Most of the guys are back in the line-up, despite the expansion draft and the trade deadline, so things are as familiar as they can be on an NHL team. Instead of a huge cohort of rookies, the Leafs have a bunch of sophomores set to prove that last year wasn't a fluke.

 

Shanny and Lou show up to greet everyone, Babs makes them run suicide the first day to see what shape they are in and they are still without a fucking captain—this thing Lou has about “the logo of the front being the face of the franchise” is getting a bit old, in Mitch’s opinion, but he keeps quiet. He likes all their As anyway.

 

Matts shows off his stupid lion king tattoo to players and support personnel alike, and Marns rolls his eyes, although he has very little room to talk about, considering his own debatable choices.

 

People notice that things between the two of them are much better. Mo approaches Mitch at the end of one practice to congratulate him into figuring out a way to solve whatever was wrong between the two of them last season. Marty hugs Mitch several times and congratulates him in being a grown-up. Willy and Kappy grin at him and Matts like two proud parents, as if they engineered the whole thing from Europe. Clearly things had been more obvious than Mitch had thought.

 

Mitch is often over at Matts’, with or without Willy and Kappy—still attached at the hip like they might be separated at any moment. Matts’ dad is back in Arizona this year, and Matts admitted to feeling a bit out of sorts. Mitch cannot really relate, since his parents are too close for comfort. Still, he tries to keep Matts company as much as he can.

 

Mitch’s training sessions pay off, and Matts begins to win at COD. Zach Werenski texts Mitch a _Duuuuude! How did you manage?_ that has Mitch in stitches and Matts offended for two days. All is good. All is actually wonderful. It’s what Mitch wanted to have last fall and he didn't—before the February disaster. He and Auston are so compatible it’s sickening—Leo’s words, because he is an ass. The matching outfits, the singing, the affinity they occasionally showed last season, they weren’t flukes. They get along very well, and they bring the best out each other. Mitch’s enthusiasm helps Auston let loose, and Auston’s levelheadedness grounds Mitch in ways nobody managed before. Mitch is kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it’s not fair to Matts, or to himself.

 

It doesn’t help that Mitch wakes up one morning and realizes, seemingly out of nowhere, that he finds Matts attractive. The only other guy Mitch has ever found remotely attractive is Stromer, which is not really a ringing endorsement for anyone involved.

 

Because it’s the pre-season, Mitch can bother Stromer and Davo on a limited basis. Dylan is trying to make the Coyotes for the third year in a row and has bigger fish to fry than Mitch’s sudden infatuation. Davo is around, but Mitch feels like a moron discussing certain things with Davo, who had his shit together by the time he was five years old. Still beggars can’t be choosers, so Mitch sucks it up and FaceTime Davo to pick his brain about the whole thing.

 

Once Mitch has laid out his dilemma, Davo looks at him like he lost his marbles before stuttering, “We are going to need to get Dyls into this.”

 

Mitch, who really doesn't want to bother Stromer, objects, “He is busy with the team.”

 

“He is not going to want to miss this, trust me Marns,” Davo replies quickly, doing something with his phone with Mitch on the line. After a few minutes, two dropped calls and some shuffling Mitch is on Skype with Davo and Stromer, whom Davo is filling in because he is captain of the fucking world.

 

“Well, Davo” Stromer says, “you can’t really blame him. Matts is kind of hot.”

 

Davo sputters as Mitch buries his face in his hands. _That is really not the point_ , he thinks.

 

“That’s not the point, Dyls,” Davo echoes and Mitch hides a smile.

 

“Still, Marns, I thought I was your only guy crush,” Stromer fake-pouts. Mitch sticks his tongue out, and Stromer brings both his hands to his chest to signal his heartbreak.

 

“Stop it, you two. It’s not helping,” Davo mumbles. He is a jealous ass when it comes to Dylan, which makes zero sense in Mitch’s opinion. Stromer is totally besotted with Davo, and Davo knows it.

 

“Can we go back to Marns’ problem?” Davo asks.

 

“That’s be nice, yes,” Mitch agrees and Stromer nods thoughtfully.

 

“This is a new development,” he muses. Mitch ponders that for a bit.

 

“I am not so sure,” he says honestly. “I’ve been thinking about why the things Matts said hurt so much. I believed it was connected with the fact I wasn't used to this type of confrontation, but maybe …”

 

“Maybe there was already something there and you didn't realize,” Davo concludes.

 

“Yeah,” Mitch concedes. “Also, it would explain why it sucked less to break up with Steph than it did to fight with Matts.”

 

“You never told us that,” Dyls says surprised.

 

“Not something I am particularly proud,” Mitch admits.

 

“Bullshit,” Dylan objects. “You didn't cheat on anyone and didn't lie to anyone.”

 

“Dyls is right,” Davo reassures him. “You did nothing wrong. I mean, your taste lets a lot to be desired when it comes to guys, but that doesn't surprise me.”

 

“You are just jealous Mitchy never liked your hot bod,” Dylan jokes and Davo rolls his eyes.

 

“Right, I stay up at night because of that.”

 

“Can we focus, guys?” Mitch interrupts them, because he loves them dearly but he has more pressing concerns.

 

“Sorry,” Davo says sheepishly.

 

“Any gossip on Matthews’ preferences?” Dylan asks Davo, because Davo knows these things for reasons beyond Mitch’s understanding of the universe. People feel compelled to share their innermost secrets with Davo, something he has been complaining about for years, because he really doesn't want to know about Taylor Hall’s sexual escapades or Noah Hanafin’s digestive issues—although one is admittedly more interesting than the other. Davo guards these secrets like his life depends on it, and only talks about them when they are no longer secrets.

 

Davo shakes his head. “If he likes guys as much as he likes girls, I never heard about it. To be fair, he spent a year in Switzerland and I don't have info about that.”

 

“Before we worry about Matts can we talk about me?” Mitch whines. He is friends with idiots, it’s what he is. He can figure out if Matts is into guys by asking Willy, who has the gaydar to end all gaydars, according to Kappy. He is more worried about why he is feeling like this.

 

“Don’t sweat it, Marns,” Stromer grins. “Gay sex is awesome once you get the hang of it.”

 

Davo groans and blushes at the same time. Mitch would be embarrassed, but he’s been Dylan’s friend for too long to be surprised by his comments. Davo should know better too.

 

“Still not the point, Stromer,” he says.

 

“What exactly is the point, though?” Dylan asks serious. “Is it the gay thing, the Matts thing or something else?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Mitch admits. He might have had a crush on Dylan, but he never thought about doing anything about it. Dylan is his friend, and Dylan is Davo’s in all the ways that count—not to mention, after spending several days with him, Mitch had realized they were great friends and decided not to mess with that. At the time he had pondered the idea of sex, however, and as much as some aspects of it had freaked him out, others had an unexpected appeal.

 

“I think you need to figure that out,” Davo says softly. He is right, of course, and Stromer nods.

 

“I am just afraid that he’ll go all homophobic on me and we’ll be back to the beginning,” Mitch admits.

 

“That won’t be a problem, Marns,” Davo says. “He knows I am bi, and he has always been extremely nice.”

 

“He knows?” Mitch is surprised. Davo is very uncomfortable in sharing details of his private life. People make fun of him for how awkward he looks in photos with strangers, but they have no idea how worst things get when he has to _talk_ to strangers. And Davo is not friends-friends with Matts, more like _friendly_ in a “I-played-with-you-and-liked-it” kind of way.

 

“Eichs and Hanny,” Stromer reveals. Of course he heard the story already.

 

“They outed you?” Mitch says horrified.

 

“They apologized a thousand times and donated a ton of money to an LGTB charity of my choice,” Davo explains. “It’s fine. It was an honest mistake; they thought Matts knew because of the Team North America stuff. It was nice to see Jack grovel, to tell you the truth.”

 

Mitch grins, “Here is the Davo we all know and love.”

 

“Anyways,” Davo continues, “Matts was nice when we talked about it, and told me he’d be in support of any events in favor of YCP.”

 

“There is a difference between being tolerant and wanting to bone a friend,” Stromer interjects.

 

Mitch groans for what feels like the tenth time in this conversation. He cannot believe Dylan has yet to develop a filter. And people complain about Mitch.

 

“I don't want to bone him!” Not yet, at least. He thinks starting slow is the key here, kissing and petting. Orgasms might require some working up to. Provided that Matts is interested, and that’s still up for debate.

 

“Well, whatever you want to do, you should clue him in somehow, or you aren’t going to get anywhere,” Stromer says sagely.

 

And that’s the absurdity of Mitch’s life, that he is getting relationship advice from Dylan Strome.

 

**VII.**

Things don't change much after Mitch’s heart-to-heart with Dylan and Connor. The _1-3-4_ chat blows up with kissy faces and lewd comments—from Stromer—and new links to advice columns—from Davo, who cares even when he is a jerk. Mitch hangs out with Auston even more—and the fact that he has become Auston unless they are on the ice doesn't escape Mitch.

 

Toronto is decked out in Leafs blue in preparation for the first games and the fans are so thrilled to have hockey back that they don't bother the team too much in the last few outings they have before things get crazy until April.

 

One evening, Mitch is out with Kappy, Willy and Auston, whom Mo and Gards have nicknamed the Four Musketeers—Zack and the Connors had felt excluded, so Leo had named _them_ the Three Little Piggies. They hadn’t like it. The bar is relatively quiet, as weeknights often are even in a university city with lots of businesses, and Kappy is trouncing Willy at pool and sending pictures of his accomplishments to the entire team.

 

Mitch and Auston, who have a front seat to the trouncing, are snickering at Freddie and Mac’s unflattering comments, and Mitch feels settled in this friendship business with Matts. It’s been months since they talked, and even with the inner turmoil Mitch is still experiencing because of his new feelings, Mitch is happy.

 

Auston must pick up on his good mood, because he puts down his phone and smiles at Mitch.

 

“Happy?” he asks insightfully.

 

“Very,” Mitch nods enthusiastically. “A new season is upon us, the team is doing well, nobody is injured and we are all getting along.” He smiles widely and Auston looks away.

 

“Matts?” Mitch says. “Everything cool?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Auston responds, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I am just glad to hear you think we are getting along.”

 

“You don't agree?” Mitch asks surprised. Is this the other shoe dropping, after all?

 

“No, no, I do,” Auston says quickly. “It’s just that we never talked about it. I mean, you seem your usual excited self, so I wasn't too worried, but…”

 

He falls silent, and Mitch looks at him attentively, trying to understand what Auston is trying to say.

 

“What you see is what you get with me, remember? You are the one with the hidden depths.”

 

Auston makes a sour face and takes another sip of his beer.

 

“I know, I know. But things are good. I have been having a lot of fun and stuff.”

 

“Eloquent,” Mitch says—this one he picked up from Davo and his word exercises.

 

“What can I say?” Auston smirks. “I learned from the best.”

 

“And that’s me, of course,” Willy interjects, draping himself all over Auston, because he has no sense of personal space.

 

“Where is your better half?” Matts says making room for Willy, which incidentally takes him closer to Mitch.

 

“Texting with Annika. It’s going to be a while, so I think we are gonna head out. It’s like they don't see each other ever from the amount of time they spend on the phone.”

 

“You’re jealous your girlfriend is not around,” Mitch smirks.

 

“There is no girlfriend who wants to be around him, you mean,” Auston says and they first bump in their frankly ridiculous chirp of Willy’s lack of female companionship. The guy is always surrounded by attractive people everywhere they go.

 

Willy looks at them like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “You guys gonna stick around?”

 

Auston looks at Mitch, who shrugs. Mitch is not interested in picking up—wouldn't be fair to Matts, even if his crush is not reciprocated—and if Auston is sleeping with someone, he does it when he is not with Mitch.

 

“Let’s go home,” Auston says. “You can come over so I can beat you at COD.”

 

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Willy says getting up after finishing what’s left of Auston’s beer.

 

“That’s what we are calling it, anyway,” Mitch responds.

 

“What are we calling what?” Kappy asks, his eyes glue to his phone. He bumps into the table and Willy rolls his eyes before grabbing him by the elbow and directing him towards the exit.

 

“Mitch is going over at Matts’ to play COD,” Willy explains as they make it into Toronto’s early fall night.

 

“Ah,” Kappy nods sagely.

 

Mitch looks at Auston, who shakes his head and heads towards the lot where they dropped Mitch’s car.

 

“You guys want a ride?” Mitch asks Willy and Kappy, who took an Uber there.

 

“No, it’s cool,” Willy says. “Our Uber is almost here.”

 

A few bro hugs later, Mitch and Auston are on their way to retrieve the car and head to Matts’.

 

“That doesn't bother you, right?” Auston asks once Mitch has made it out of the lot and into Toronto traffic.

 

“What?” Mitch says.

 

“The thing about us.”

 

Mitch turns quickly to look at Auston, but can’t really see his expression because Matts is looking outside his window and Mitch needs to drive.

 

“I mean, as long as they don't mean it in a homophobic way I don't care,” Mitch says honestly.

 

“Oh, good,” Auston sounds relieved. “The guys are pretty good with that kind of stuff in the locker-room, and Shanny is really promoting the whole inclusion message. Still, it’s always dicey and I know you’re close to McDavid.”

 

Mitch laughs. “Yeah. He had a couple of issues when he got to Edmonton, but he sorted them out pretty quickly.”

 

“I can imagine. God, you should have seen Eichs’ face when he realized he had blown it with Connor,” Auston groans.

 

“I wish I’d been there, to be honest,” Mitch admits. “I mean, I feel bad for Davo, but Eichs’ face must have been visible from the moon.”

 

“Try Saturn,” Auston says. “Poor Hanny wasn't in better shape either. I felt so bad for all of them.”

 

“Davo told me you were supercool, though.”

 

Auston is quiet for a while and Mitch doesn't really pay attention to it until he realizes there is some tension in Auston’s posture. It’s not super visible, and Mitch is still driving so he can’t really be certain, but the atmosphere in the car is charged.

 

“Auston?” he says when the silence has gone on for too long for it to be a coincidence.

 

“Sorry, Marns,” Auston says. Mitch is not sure what exactly he is apologizing for, but he figures if Auston wants to tell him what’s wrong, he will.

 

They drive the final part of the route in silent, although it’s not tense. Auston is pensive, and Mitch leaves him to it. By the time he parks his car in front of Auston’s building, however, he is not entirely sure he is still invited.

 

“Am I still coming up?” he asks.

 

“What?” Auston says, seemingly back to earth. “Yes, of course. Just put the car in the visitors’ lot.”

 

Mitch complies and soon thereafter they are at Auston’s apartment. Mitch takes off his shoes and jacket, leaves them by the door and makes his way to Auston’s kitchen to grab something to drink. He gets two beers after silently asking Auston if he wants one too, and then moves to the living room, where the gaming system is set up. It’s not even 10PM, so they can get a couple of hours of gaming before they absolutely have to go to bed. They have practice in the afternoon, but the nights when they can stay up late are coming to an end.

 

Auston sits on the couch beside Mitch, but doesn't power up the game. Mitch is starting to get nervous, his left leg bouncing as a result.

 

“What’s up, Matts?” he asks.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Auston says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I was still thinking about our car conversation.”

 

“About Eichs outing Davo?” Mitch asks after turning to face Auston.

 

“About Connor saying I was cool with it,” he answers.

 

Mitch raises his eyebrows. “Was he wrong?”

 

“No, no. I mean, I am glad he thought I was fine with the whole thing, which I was. The situation was so unreal that for a moment I believed they were pranking me, but you can’t fake that type of mortification.”

 

“Okay,” Mitch says, still not getting what the problem is.

 

“It just got me thinking, you know, talking to Davo after?”

 

“What about?”

 

“About being with a guy,” Auston says quickly. He is clearly uncomfortable and Mitch doesn't quite know how to react to his confession. He figures leveling the playing field might be the way to go, but he needs a bit more to go on if he wants to do that.

 

“You mean because Davo is bi?” he asks.

 

Auston nods, his eyes boring into Mitch’s.

 

“I need words, Matts. Work with me here,” Mitch encourages him.

 

They are good friends, now, but it’s rare they hold each other’s confidences when it comes to their romantic life. Sure, they have talked a lot about their expectations about playing with the Leafs and their national teams. They don’t, however, discuss girlfriends or other things like that.

 

“Sorry, I am being an idiot,” Auston says. “It’s just that I never really met …” He pauses and then rethinks his approach. “I probably know other gay and bi people, just because statistically it’s unlikely I don't,” he explains. “But Connor is the first one I am actually friendly with. It kind of brought the idea closer to home, you know.”

 

Mitch can relate, because in some way it happened to him with Stromer. So he nods to show he gets it.

 

“So that got me thinking,” Auston continues. “I’ve only looked at girls, you know.”

 

“I think everyone in the GTA knows that,” Mitch comments with a smirk. Auston blushes slightly, but he has never been  ashamed of his numerous hook-ups.

 

“Right. So when I saw Davo being so chill about it, I started thinking about what it means, to like both.”

 

Mitch nods. Sometimes an idea doesn't cross your mind until it’s shoved in your face. And let’s be honest—hockey in general and junior hockey in particular are not the most welcoming environments for people like Davo and Dylan. As far as Mitch knows, Davo has no intention of coming out and becoming the poster boy for gay rights until after he retires.

 

“I hear you,” he says. When Auston looks at Mitch with skepticism, Mitch continues.

 

“I mean it. I went through the same thing with Stromer. Though I don't know if you have a crush on Davo or what.”

 

Auston’s eyes go as wide as saucers.

 

“You have a crush on McDavid?” he asks astonished.

 

“No,” Mitch explains patiently, because sometimes Auston is dense. “But I did have this weird infatuation with Stromer, which lasted until I spent too much time in his lovely presence.”

 

Auston laughs. “I am not sure if I approve of your taste,” he says jokingly.

 

“Don't let Davo hear you say that,” Mitch smiles.

 

“Wouldn't dream of it, dude,” Auston promises. “I am not suicidal.”

 

“Good. Anyway, I get what you’re saying.”

 

Auston studies him for a bit and then he asks, “So you’d be open to the idea?”

 

Mitch is not sure he is understanding things correctly.

 

“Which idea?”

 

“Of being with a guy.”

 

Mitch fidgets and feels himself go bright red; he wasn't really expecting this conversation when he accepted Auston’s invitation to play COD.

 

“I mean, I thought about it, so I guess I am open to it. I am just not actively seeking it, if you know what I mean.”

 

“Yeah, I get that. But you’d be open to that?”

 

“Sure. In theory,” Mitch says.

 

“With me?” Auston asks.

 

Mitch’s world goes supernova. Auston is still looking at him with his serious brown eyes, a determined expression in his face that is usually reserved for when the Leafs are down two goals and there are three minutes left in the third period.

 

“W-with you?” he repeats like the fucking moron he is, because for all of his promise to explain the ABCs of gay sex, Stromer didn't prepare Mitch for Auston Matthews propositioning him.

 

“Yes,” Auston says.

 

Mitch takes a deep breath. This might be something he wants, but it’s coming out of nowhere and he is honestly floored.

 

“You look surprised,” Auston says.

 

“You went from hating me to wanting to have sex with me,” Mitch babbles. “I am having a hard time keeping up.”

 

“I never hated you,” Auston says with a displeased expression on his face.

 

“You said you did.”

 

“I was exaggerating.”

 

“Still …”

 

“I never hated you, Mitch. I explained it to you. I was an ass and I am really sorry about it, but even when I said that, I never meant it. I was only venting, I promise.”

 

Mitch ponders that for a moment. He does need to believe Auston if whatever is going on right now has a chance in hell of getting off the ground.

 

“Okay, fine,” he says. “But the rest …”

 

“You haven’t answer my question.”

 

“What was the question again?” Mitch asks, because he is not sure he remembers things correctly.

 

“Would you consider being with me?”

 

 _Yep,_ Mitch thinks, _I heard it right the first time._

“Who else would I consider it with?” he blurts out. No one ever claimed Mitch is subtle.

 

Auston’s eyes go wide in clear surprise, like he wasn't expecting Mitch to cave so quickly. Mitch had thought for a moment he had been giving out the right vibe and Auston had picked it up, but clearly Auston had simply taken a chance with him. Trust Auston Matthews to go after what he wants with fearlessness.

 

“You just said you considered it with Stromer,” Auston jokes.

 

“Not really,” Mitch says with a dismissive gesture. “I thought about it _because_ of Stromer, but he was never someone attainable.”

 

“Attainable,” Auston repeats.

 

“Davo is teaching me multi-syllable words.”

 

“And how is that working out for you?” Auston laughs.

 

“As well as expected, and we are not really dealing with the bombshell you just dropped.”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Auston seems contrite, although Mitch can see the humor in his eyes.

 

“Right. Anyway, you still haven’t explained where this is coming from.”

 

Auston runs a hand through his hair, takes a deep breath and relaxes into the couch.

 

“You are exhausting and there are days when I don't really understand where you hide all that energy. You are a pain in the ass, and your pranks are for shit, but everyone laughs at them. Your taste in clothing is ridiculous but you look good in them. You are unfailingly kind and I never heard you say anything bad about anyone, unless it’s an opposing team's member deliberately trying to hurt someone. Everyone wants to protect you, and you let them even if you are perfectly capable of protecting yourself, because you don't want to hurt their feeling. You managed to be friends with McDavid and Eichs, and I really don't know how the hell you do that. You can play Babs like a violin, but you don't because you respect him and trust him to do his job. You are fun to be around and you gave me another chance when others wouldn't have. Everyone likes you, Mitch. How could I not?”

 

Mitch’s eyes have gone progressively wider during Auston’s impassionate speech. He wasn't really expecting such a detailed enumeration of his qualities—and flaws, which he appreciates because it means Auston understands Mitch is not perfect and he doesn't have a perfect life. Still, he doesn't quite know what to say. So he gets on his knees and crawls towards Auston, who is looking at him to gauge his reaction.

 

“Get up a bit,” Mitch says, and when Auston does, he slides on his laps, his thighs on both sides of Auston’s.

 

“What are you doing?” Auston asks and Mitch raises his eyebrows.

 

“Really, Matts?”

 

Auston smiles self-consciously and relaxes a bit. Mitch takes it as a clue that he can go on with his plan and leans towards Auston. If they are doing this, they need to figure out if they can actually stand to touch each other. They might be intrigued by the idea _in theory_ , but practice is quite difference.

 

Auston’s lips are soft when they touch Mitch’s, which Mitch was kind of expecting, because he had spent an inordinately amount of time contemplating them in the past few weeks. Mitch raises his right hand and cups Auston’s face to tilt it for a better angle. Auston obeys his silent request, and press both his hands on Mitch’s back to get him closer.

 

The kiss is tentative; they are both testing the waters, unsure about this thing that is happening between them. Things heat up pretty quickly, however. Mitch has seen Auston make out with enough girls to expect Auston to be a good kisser. He is right. Once it’s clear neither of them wants to stop, they both become more aggressive and the kiss explodes in an exploration of tongues and mouths. It goes on for what seems like a decade before Mitch pulls back because he still needs to breathe.

 

“Okay,” he says breathlessly. “Okay.”

 

Auston’s cheeks are red and his eyes are darker than usual.

 

“You good?” he asks.

 

Mitch nods, “You?”

 

“Very good,” Auston answers smiling.

 

“Okay,” Mitch repeats for a third time.

 

Auston’s hard under Mitch’s ass, and isn’t that interesting. Mitch is too and the whole thing is a tad overwhelming, but in a good way.

 

“Jesus,” Mitch says, and hides his face in the crook of Auston’s shoulder, because apparently he can do that now.

 

“I know,” Auston laughs wrapping his arms around Mitch.

 

Mitch snuggles into him, something he had wanted to do for a while, and Auston lets him, positioning Mitch for best cuddle potential.

 

“Okay,” Mitch says once again.

 

“Okay?” Auston asks, and there is a clear question this time.

 

“Yes, okay,” Mitch says. “Let’s try this thing.”

 

“Okay,” Auston repeats and he drops a kiss on Mitch’s hair.

 

**VIII.**

 

Mitch hates the Bruins. He _fucking_ hates them. He hates that they are in the Leafs division; he hates that they have Zdeno Chara; he also hates that they have Brad Marchand and Patrice Bergeron, even if his Canadian heart is torn about it. Every game with the Bruins is a clusterfuck waiting to happen and now that Mitch is no longer a rookie, the gloves are off. Marty can only do so much and he is not Mitch’s personal bodyguard, regardless of what Willy claims—the fucker.

 

The Leafs won, which is nice, but Mitch’s body has six bruises that weren’t there before the game. Willy and Kappy aren’t faring much better, and Brownie has a shiner courtesy of a high stick that almost took away his left eye. Mitch _hates_ the Bruins.

 

They are on home ice, which means Mitch gets to sleep in his bed tonight—always a plus when things go like this. He pokes at one of his bruises with a displeased expression before getting up and going to shower.

 

When he is done, he dresses quickly and looks around to see where Auston is.

 

“He is waiting for you at the car,” Kappy says with a smirk. “I think he wanted to say hello to McAvoy.”

 

“Huh,” Mitch says, not inclined to be charitable towards Auston’s American friends right now.

 

Mitch makes his way to the parking lot checking his phone at the same time. There are a couple of messages from Stromer, who is in Arizona for the foreseeable future, thank fuck. Otherwise things are quiet on social media.

 

Auston is waiting for him at the car, leaning against the passenger side door. They are still carpooling together, even if Auston has a car and a driver's license. He is still a lazy fucker who hates to drive, however. And they spend enough time at each other’s places that it’s easier to come in together—something that their teammates have noticed but not commented on. Yet.

 

Mitch unlocks the car and slides into the driver’s seat with some difficulty.

 

“Everything okay?” Auston asks with a worried expression.

 

“I just need to ice it. Did you tell your buddy to cool it?”

 

“You went head to head to Chara, Mitch. Charlie had little to do with that,” Auston responds amused. “Although he was very impressed. So was Chara, by the way.”

 

“Right,” Mitch says, starting the car and getting out of the lot. “That’s my childhood dream—to impress Zdeno Chara.”

 

Auston laughs and pats a hand on Mitch’s leg.

 

It’s been good, this thing they have. It’s still new, even if they have been doing it for months now, but they are happy. There have been some roadblocks, which Mitch had expected. They are still learning their way around each other’s bodies, although the sex is excellent. They are also being very cautious with each other’s hearts. Auston is especially careful, and Mitch appreciates it, because it shows Auston’s commitment to making this work.

 

They’ve told a few people. Mitch can’t keep a secret from his brother, Stromer or Davo to save his life, so he went ahead and let them know very quickly. Auston’s sisters know too, and so does Zach, who laughed his ass off so much that Auston hung up on him. Willy and Kappy know too, because they are not idiots, and Mitch is convinced Marty and Mo suspect something is up. They are giving them space, though, and Mitch appreciates it. This thing is _theirs_ and Mitch’s not willing to share it with too many people. He is also not ready to come out to the team, and neither is Auston.

 

Auston is happy. Mitch _knows_ that. He looks less stress and less tired—even Twitter has noticed, since the memes about the bags under his eyes have decreased exponentially. He is always smiling and is even more his goofy self than last year. Mitch loves it.

 

They have plans to go somewhere together during the bye-week, somewhere warm where there are no sharks—for Auston—but they can still some snorkeling—for Mitch. The possibilities are endless; as long as they take care of each other, they will be fine. They are friends first, and teammates and Mitch loves it. But they are also lovers and Mitch doesn't have words to describe how extraordinary that is. He just knows he is incandescently happy and that it shows no signs to end. Ever.


End file.
